Baskerville Nightmares
by musicandme37
Summary: John finds that nightmares aren't so bad when he has a certain consulting detective to comfort him afterwards. Post-Hound of Baskerville episode. John/Sherlock
1. Chapter 1

As a fan since the first series, I can't believe it has taken me this long to write my first Sherlock fanfiction! Inspired by the excellent Hound of the Baskervilles episode, this came to me. I hope you enjoy it!

Spoilers: For Series 2 Episode 2 'The Hounds of Baskerville'.

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Disclaimer: I do not own the programme or the characters. Fic written purely for fun from fangirly imagination.

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><p><em>'At last the pack makes a successful kill. After the alpha…'<em>

John Watson began to lose focus of the television screen as his eyelids started to droop. David Attenborough's familiar voice lulling him to sleep.

_'…then the rest of the pack will feed.'_

"Should you be watching this?"

John jerked awake at the loud, sudden voice just behind his left ear. "What?"

Sherlock circled the chair and blocked the TV as he bent close to John's face, eyes assessing. "Should you be watching this? A programme about wolves, so soon after the Dartmoor Hound case?"

"The Hound of Baskerville case." John corrected. It was what he had decided to name their latest adventure on his blog. "It's been a week, and these are wolves Sherlock, not some red-eyed ginormous make-believe hound."

"Regardless of what David Attenborough is presenting on – which could be hummingbirds or polar bears for all I care, you are undoubtedly tired and I think it is time for bed."

"You are not my mother Sherlock." John grumbled, even as he blinked repeatedly in an effort to stay awake.

"Do you want me to get Mrs Hudson up here to send you to bed?"

"I'm fine Sherlock." John batted the taller man out of the way so that he could see the TV screen again. "And if you do decide to go and get Mrs Hudson, I may accidentally tell her of your plans to buy one of those glow in the dark rabbits from Dr Stapleton."

"I don't need to buy one John; if I wanted one I could create it myself."

"Of course." John rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Mrs Hudson will be thrilled to find you experimenting on more than just human body parts in her house. Goodnight Sherlock."

Sherlock frowned and looked like he was about to argue, but then stepped out of John's way. "Goodnight."

- - S - -

Sherlock opened his eyes when his light sleep was disturbed by the awareness of a presence other than his own in his bedroom.

The room was dimly lit by the street lamps and bright city outside the window.

A brief glance at the clock on his bedside table informed him it was exactly quarter past two in the morning. A second glance, this time in the direction of the doorway, told him that the intruder was John.

"John?" He asked the darkened figure standing at the foot of his bed. "What is it?"

"You were right about the wolves." Even from his position in the bed, Sherlock could see John shudder. "I shouldn't have watched it."

"Nightmares?"

"If you say I told you so…"

"Well I did warn you."

"It is partly your fault for scaring me so much."

Sherlock pushed himself up on his elbows and stared calmly at the doctor. "How so?"

"You were the one who locked me in the lab, played that growling…" John paused for another shudder, "Noise so I thought it was actually there. It was you who scared me so much in the first place."

"It was an experiment."

"So that's what you do to your friends is it? Or should I…"

"I'm sorry."

"…say your 'only friend' because…What? Did you just apologise? Twice in one week Sherlock, must be a new record."

"Yes I did apologise and to make it up to you even more I shall make you coffee in the morning. Minus the sugar. Happy?"

"Sherlock! I'm trying to be mad at you."

"You know it won't last. Now is there any particular reason that you came to me to tell me of your nightmares?"

"I err…" John's head dropped and he toed the carpet. "Not really."

Sherlock didn't answer, or question John further. He just pulled back the duvet a little.

John took the wordless hint and quickly climbed into the bed.

The two had shared a bed only a couple of times before. One of those times had been on the night that they had first encountered Moriarty first-hand and Sherlock had had to rip the explosive rigged jacket from John's body. Neither the consultant detective nor the doctor had wanted to be alone that night.

"You're cold." Sherlock stated rather than complained.

"Sorry." John mumbled as he gave a well timed shiver.

Sherlock sighed and pulled the duvet back over them. "You'll warm up soon enough."

John murmured in agreement, already half-asleep as he unconsciously snuggled into the slightly warmer body beside him.

"So." Sherlock lay staring up at the ceiling, more awake now, unable to fall back to sleep with John lying so close to him. "Lestrade's first name is Greg?"

John groaned. "Shh Sherlock, m'trying to sleep."

"Ok, ok. Sorry. Again."

"S'alright." John slurred as his breathing eventually evened out and deepened.

It was a while before Sherlock fell asleep too.

- - S - -

When John awoke in the morning he felt slightly disorientated. Initially he didn't recognise where he was, until he remembered the nightmares about the Baskerville Hound triggered by the wolf programme, and that he was in Sherlock's room and not his own.

In Sherlock's room. In Sherlock's bed.

"Morning John." A voice said just above his head.

John looked up to find Sherlock looking down at him.

Oh god.

John looked down to find his pillow was actually Sherlock's chest, and that he'd got an arm draped across Sherlock's middle.

"Good night's sleep?" Sherlock inquired, still not mentioning their situation. He was probably saving it as mocking ammunition for later.

"Yeah." John found himself admitting. He rubbed his eyes – needing something to do to break eye contact with his partner.

Business partner! Not partner.

Flatmate. Not domestic relationship.

Friend. Or more than friends?

"Me too." Sherlock said, in a tone that clearly read as a sarcastic 'thanks-for-asking'.

"Sorry for this." John cleared his throat awkwardly, attempting to push himself up to move off of Sherlock's body.

He failed however, because Sherlock had a hand pressed to John's back, not very firmly, but John gave up pretty easily, he was actually rather comfortable where he was.

"It should be me who's still apologising, remember?" Sherlock reminded him.

"Yeah, you owe me a coffee."

"No sugar." Sherlock added with a grin.

"No sugar."

Sherlock shifted as though he was about to get up but John amended himself. "You don't have to do it right now."

Sherlock relaxed again almost immediately, the hand on John's back moving in a slow, circling motion. "I suppose not. We haven't got a reason to get up…no case…"

"We haven't had one for a week. I thought you'd be insulting Mrs Hudson with your analysing again by now."

"Boys! Phone call!" Mrs Hudson's voice floated through the door.

"Speak of the devil." Sherlock muttered. "Who is it Mrs Hudson?" He shouted back. John flinched at the loud noise.

"I'm not your servant Sherlock Holmes!" Came the response, but, predictably, there was a pause before she called back, "Its Detective Inspector Lestrade. He says it's urgent."

"Tell him I'll call him back." Sherlock instructed, before falling back onto his pillows and saying rather reluctantly and this time for John's ears only "I guess we'd better get up then. This case had better be worth it. Bloody Greg."

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><p>Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!<br>Any reviews will be greatly appreciated!

mnm37 x


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and/or favourited the first chapter of this! It's really made me smile and I'm so cheery I decided to add an extra chapter. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Spoilers for Sherlock Series 2 Episode 2 The Hound of Baskerville

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, DI Lestrade, Sgt Donovan.

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Disclaimer: I do not own the programme or the characters. Sadly!

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><p>Detective Inspector Lestrade knew how much he sometimes relied on the brilliant mind of Sherlock Holmes.<p>

His team were never as accommodating to Holmes and his theories as Lestrade was, but Lestrade could hardly remember a case where Holmes hadn't been right, and the cases that hadn't gone right was when Holmes had been ignored, which was often a fault of London's police force. They couldn't always stand that Holmes could often do their jobs better than they could and many of them sneered at the consultant detective because, in all honesty, the man could be a tiny bit overbearing, and more than a little odd.

Not that Holmes minded the fact that people thought he was, as Sergeant Donovan always so politely put it, a 'freak', it seemed to pass over him like water off a ducks back. He could not be harmed by little insults and belittling comments. In that sense, Lestrade often wished he was that socially ignorant.

He had been calling in Sherlock Holmes to assist him with particularly difficult cases for several years now. Over that time he had learned quite a lot about the younger man.

First of all, it had become clear to Lestrade very quickly that Holmes was undoubtedly a genius. His deduction skills at a crime scene could match if not better anything forensics could drag up and he could do it about five times faster. He had an eye for detail that was crucial and beneficial to many cases over the years.

Not that the London police force were completely incompetent of course. They only called Sherlock in when they were grasping at straws and when he wasn't busy with his own private investigations. Other times, he would refuse to help simply because the case sounded too boring and dull to worth investigating, because he was not a part of the police force and he could refuse whenever he wanted to.

This morning however, he had taken the case without even enquiring what it was about. Lestrade assumed Sherlock had taken the case because he felt he owed Lestrade for helping out with the Baskerville case the week before.

- - S - -

Sergeant Sally Donovan often despaired of Detective Inspector Lestrade.

His faith in Sherlock Holmes was unquestionable but she had always thought it foolish of him to trust assessments of crime scenes to that arrogant weirdo. She thought it was foolish of Lestrade to trust Sherlock Holmes altogether.

John Watson was foolish too. She had warned him about Holmes but he had not listened and now he was his assistant, flatmate and writing blogs about him for christs sake! It was John Watson's fault that Sherlock Holmes had become somewhat of a mini-celebrity with the press. Donovan had seen the pictures in the newspaper. Before she'd binned them, of course.

Sherlock Holmes had always been a bit of a loner. He was rude, socially ignorant, cold hearted and he seemed to push away everyone who tried to care about him even a little bit. So it had been more than a surprise that Sherlock bringing Dr Watson with him to crime scenes became a regular occurrence. Watson was a calming influence when the detective was overexcited, and the doctor provided the enthusiasm when Sherlock lacked it.

It was true that they did make a good team and Donovan's fellow police officers generally liked John Watson because he was a straightforward normal guy. He was a former army doctor; he had been in the forces and knew of order, propriety and discipline, something which Sherlock Holmes seemed to have little time for. But that's what the other police officers thought.

Personally, Donovan disliked Watson a little bit more with every day that he was affiliated with Sherlock Holmes. How he managed to put up with Holmes day in and day out was beyond her.

Donovan had tried very hard that morning to dissuade Lestrade from asking Holmes and Watson to the crime scene, but he wouldn't listen.

So Sherlock Holmes had swept into the room with all the ferocity of a hurricane and began to circle the crime scene like a watchful vulture.

He had then gone about his usual routine, approaching everything with the same calculating, deciphering manner, his ice-blue eyes leaving no stone – or in this case, sofa cushion - unturned.

Right now though, he was standing in the centre of the crime scene trying to catch the attentions of Lestrade and Watson, who were having a very intense conversation. Sally had thought she'd heard them mention a hound whilst she had been earwigging, but knew she must have misheard.

- - S - -

Lestrade was talking quietly with John about the Hound of Baskerville case at the edge of the crime scene whilst Sherlock did his stuff. They were interrupted however when they heard someone clear their throat loudly close by. Then, just in case they hadn't heard him, Sherlock added a showy "Ahem."

Watson and Lestrade both turned simultaneously to see Sherlock rocking on his heels, hands clasped behind his back and his eyebrow arched high. "Well?" He asked.

Lestrade and John exchanged a glance.

"That's what I'm supposed to be asking you." Lestrade said.

"Well seriously Greg! When you called me in at this ungodly hour I thought you would have something even a little testing."

- - S - -

John led the way out of the house of the victim that Sherlock had deduced had been murdered, and had not in fact committed suicide as first thought.

Sherlock and Lestrade were walking behind him talking animatedly about the case they had solved up on Dartmoor the week before.

"Honestly Greg, it really irritated me that he got away."

"Sherlock! He didn't 'get away'! He's dead!"

"Yes, well, he conveniently stepped on a landmine didn't he, Greg?"

"You know, just because you've only just learnt what my name actually is, you don't have to use it in every single sentence you say to me."

"But Greg! I'm making up for years' worth of not-knowing."

"Finally," A cold voice behind them made John stop, he turned around to find Sherlock and Lestrade had turned too, to look at Sergeant Donovan who had been following them down the street, "Finally we have found something that the great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know."

"_Didn't_ know." Sherlock corrected. "I do know now. But well observed Donovan. Maybe you should use that skill more often at the crime scenes, so maybe you can figure out when someone has committed suicide or if, in fact, the killer has faked a suicide to mask the murder."

"Shut up freak."

- - S - -

Donovan had expected a fast, quick-witted, belittling comeback, but instead she was met with silence. She looked at the three men in front of her, to find that not one of her was still looking at her. They were all staring at something over her shoulder.

She narrowed her eyes at them and turned around. The only thing behind her in the street was an older-looking gentleman walking his dog. The dog was ridiculously big – the man having trouble to keep up with it as it pulled him along – and it was pitch black. She wondered what combination of dog breeds had created that wolfish creature.

She then wondered why Lestrade, Watson and Holmes were staring at it.

She turned back around to find that Sherlock – who was possibly looking slightly paler than before? - had taken a step backwards, closer to Watson. Watson looked slightly guarded, biting his lip nervously and Lestrade's eyes were widening more and more with something like near panic with each step closer that the man and his dog got.

"What the hell is up with you three?" She asked, flabbergasted at to what had got them all looking so tense and…scared?

"Nothing." Lestrade said quickly, but even as he spoke his eyes never left the dog, which was now precisely opposite them on the street.

- - S - -

As the dog reached them John felt long, cool fingers slide between his own. He broke stare from the dog momentarily to glance down at where Sherlock's marble-white fingers were entwined with John's smaller, more tanned ones. He looked up questioningly at Sherlock, but the other man was still watching the dog carefully over John's head.

"Nothing?" Donovan repeated incredulously. Thankfully Donovan couldn't see their joined hands thanks to Lestrade standing in front of them. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost."

Sherlock barked a laugh and the moment was broken as the dog carried on past, its owner being dragged along behind. "It wasn't a ghost of what we have seen, because what we have seen wasn't real in the first place. Well, not entirely."

Donovan just stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

Lestrade, who was looking a great deal paler despite his remaining holiday tan, shrugged "It's nothing sergeant. Now come on, we apparently have a murderer to search for. Thanks again guys, see you soon probably."

"No problem Greg." Sherlock said.

"See you." John said.

Lestrade sent them a quick smile before leading Donovan back into the building, ignoring Donovan's questions about 'what the hell just happened?' leaving John and Sherlock standing in the street.

It was only then that John looked down and realised that he and Sherlock were still holding hands.

"So, erm…" He began. Sherlock looked down at him expectantly. "Sherlock Holmes felt fear again."

"That wasn't fear."

John lifted their hands and shook them in response "This proves otherwise." He still didn't let go though.

Sherlock tilted his head slightly, "Or it could prove something else entirely."

John was confused for a moment, but Sherlock had turned back around and had started pulling them in the direction of home.

John wasn't quite sure what do to about the fact they were holding hands, but then again, they had woken up in bed together that morning, and apparently his hand didn't want to let go.

Sherlock wasn't letting go either, as he made sure they walked in the opposite direction to the one that the big dog and its owner had gone and had started talking about how irritating Sergeant Donavan was.

They held hands all the way home.

And even if a newspaper photographer may have gotten a snap of The Great Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes and his assistant and blogger Dr John H Watson holding hands as they went inside their home at 221b Baker Street, John found he didn't mind that much at all.

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><p>Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!<p>

Any reviews will be greatly appreciated! :)


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